


Red Light

by Gcgraywriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Flirty Pansy Parkinson, Landlady Hannah Abbott, M/M, Mutual Pining, Professor Neville Longbottom, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:35:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26651533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gcgraywriter/pseuds/Gcgraywriter
Summary: He loved him since he knew him, but he couldn't talk right to him. He had to tell him just how he felt, He won't share him with someone else...
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Ernie Macmillan
Comments: 42
Kudos: 32
Collections: Sing Me a Rare: UK Invasion!





	Red Light

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sing-Me-A-Rare: UK Invasion. Much love to my Beta who shall remain nameless for the moment.
> 
> Song Prompt - Roxanne - The Police
> 
> Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made from this creation.

He couldn’t help but follow the strong thighs with his eyes, as they joined the shapely arse sitting on the barstool. The material of the trousers stretched taut across his rump was so much tighter than should be legal, drawing his eye and making his hand itch to touch it. He licked his lips before taking another swig of his Simison’s, his heart hammering in his chest jealously. 

The pub, with its smokey atmosphere, usually gave him a cosy feeling, perfect for winding down after a long day at the ministry. Tonight was a different story. It was the school holidays, so the old tavern was rammed with students old enough to legally drink, and a few that weren’t. Tonight, the smokey air just made him feel hot and uncomfortable.

Then He flooed in-carefree, handsome and ripe. He felt his cock twitch under the table, complaining against its material restraints as it grew to attention. The wizard had always had that effect on him, even as a young, clumsy boy. He was no longer that boy; however, as he sat leisurely at the bar. He began to feel hot and uncomfortable in a completely different way. 

The Snake-slayer sat relaxed and confident as his own friend Hannah draped herself before him, batting her eyelashes and flashing her milky white cleavage at him. Hot spite flashed through him, even though she was his best friend, he wished she’d take her saggy, pale tits elsewhere and serve some of the other waiting patrons.

Neville Longbottom was his, and he wasn’t willing to share! The Gryffindor just didn’t know it yet…

Ernie looked down at his steaming stout and took a deep breath, hoping that the black liquid could finally give him enough courage to approach the handsome Gryffindor. He could feel the nerves swirling like worms in his gut. He groaned as his cock twitched again, the thoughts of everything he wanted to do to that man running past his eyes. 

Looking up again, he scowled. Apparently, even the Slytherin’s thought they could claim him, Parkinson sashaying her way over only to present herself to him, cleavage so low that her bellybutton was almost visible, and lips as red as garnets whispering seductive nothings into his ear. 

It boiled his blood to watch as all these women, who refused to give him the time of day before the war, now fawned over and fought for his attention like cats in heat now that he was famous and sexy. 

Neville had always been sexy to him. The Gryffindor’s sweet and innocent exterior practically a call to arms, a quest, a challenge to conquer, preserve and simultaneously ruin him. 

That sealed it, his jealousy and courage at its peak as he watched Parkinson hitch up her skirt, rubbing her stocking-clad legs together as she leant over talking to him. Knowing that he needed to interrupt before things went any further, he knocked back the dregs of the steaming brew before standing up. The room swam around him for a moment as he stepped forward, feeling slightly unsteady on his feet. How many had he had now? Two? Three? He had been hoping the Professor would come in even if they never spoke. 

Seeing that narrow, toned waist in its waistcoat as it widened out to his broad, strong back would brighten even the worst of days at the office. As he navigated his way through the crowd, he could appreciate the smaller things, the slight greying of his hair just above the ears and the slightly lopsided grin that had been the star of so many fantasies. The subtle creases at the corners of his eyes as he smiled and the size of his forearms with his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow.  
He was thankful that his work robes hung below his groin, effectively hiding the bulge that rubbed against his trousers. The man did great but terrible things to him. 

He edged closer bumping into the Slytherin slut as he walked by. 

“Watch it, Macmillan,” She growled sharply, before turning those dark red lips back to Neville. 

“Not my fault your arse was hanging out in the middle of the room. I never realised it was so big,” Parkinson shot up like a rocket, straightening at the mention of her backside. 

“It is not! Twat!”

“Course not,” Ernie said, sarcastically as he slid onto the chair a couple away from the Gryffindor. Neville offered him a polite nod as Hannah arrived, cooly sliding his pint over. 

Their eyes met, and the look he gave her wasn’t friendly. She rolled her eyes and with a shake of her head, disappeared down the other end of the bar to sever someone else. 

“Alright there, Longbottom?” he greeted, 

“Not bad, you?” He responded after taking a sip of his beer. Ernie watched as his pint tongue flashed out to lick his lips before putting his pint down. A thrill rushed down his spine as he held his own, another pint of Simison’s. The Professor looked at him expectantly, and he realised that he hadn’t replied. He nodded, taking a sip of his own drink, desperately trying to calm the tremble in his hands. 

It appeared that his Dutch courage had left him, and he sighed unhappily knowing that he would never gather up the courage to do anything more than greet the Gryffindor. He listened as Parkinson giggled and cooed at him, and cursed silently when he muttered back. 

As he neared the end of his drink, he considered leaving for the night, feeling, even more, wound up than normal. At least he could go home, fall into bed and pretend that Neville was there with him. Movement caught his eye as Pansy sashayed away, leaving Neville blessedly alone once again. However, his excitement died as Neville started to stand, grabbing his half-full pint to move elsewhere. 

“See you later,” He muttered, raising his glass in a sad farewell. 

“I’m not going anywhere, it’s too loud in here,” He said as he moved closer. 

“Oh… right,” Ernie said nervously. His mind racing as the man sat next to him. It may have been his imagination, but he felt like he could feel the warmth radiating from the man as their forearms bumped each other. He didn’t think he would ever wash that arm again. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, his glorious hazel eyes meeting his own. Ernie felt his mouth turn arid and nodded in response, unable to do anything else. He’d never been able to say more than a few words to the man, his courage failing within seconds of a greeting. 

“You look really down. You know, drinking isn’t the answer?” he offered kindly. Ernie cringed and looked away. Great! The man thought he was a drunk. “Are you going to be alright apparating home?” He nodded again, cursing his voice’s betrayal. 

“I don’t believe you,” He smiled suddenly. Kindly. “I’ll take you home, don’t want you splinching yourself. 

“Oh…ok,” Ernie almost whispered, his mind raced as his heart sped up. Neville was going to take him home. He knew it wasn’t what he wanted, but it was more than he had ever had before. 

“How much have you had to drink?” Neville asked. 

He held up his three fingers and suddenly couldn’t finish his final pint. He didn’t want the taller man to think he was an alcoholic, so he pushed his pint away. 

“Probably a good idea,” Neville smiled, meeting his gaze with another kind smile. 

Those eyes captured his own, and he struggled to look away. Like a summer forest dappled in sunlight. “Are you sure you’re alright?” His dark eyebrows creased in concern. 

Ernie nodded, forcing words to his lips. “I’m fine,”

“Is it…Me? Do you want me to leave you alone?” He asked, the insecurity and uncertainty clear in his voice. 

“No, stay. Please!” Ernie said. 

“Are you sure? You always seem to stop talking whenever I’m around. I thought maybe you didn’t like me.” He rubbed the pint glass between his hands, now avoiding Ernie’s gaze.

“No, nothing like that,” He replied, the suggestion that he didn’t like him and the unsure look in his eye loosening his tongue. 

“Good,” He smiled, taking a sip of his beer, his tongue repeating the routine from earlier. Ernie looked away. 

“Hot date with Parkinson later?” The words fell out in a tumble, and it took everything he had not to slap his hands across his mouth. 

“Parkinson?” He asked with a smirk “No, no hot date there,”

“Oh, how come? She seemed keen,” His heart was racing, and his palms were sweaty, but the words were flowing. His knee caught Neville’s, and he didn’t move it away. 

“I think she got bored when she realised I wouldn’t help her,”

“What did she need help with?” He asked. 

“Oh, nothing. Don’t worry,” He shook his head before taking another sip of his pint, the foam clinging to his upper lip. Ernie watched, groaning internally as Neville’s tongue traced his top lip, leaving behind a trail of moisture, before rubbing at his lips with his hand. “So, how come you’re in here tonight? Rough day at the office?”

“Something like that,” Ernie took a deep breath and plunged in. He could talk about work without thinking too hard. “The Magpies want a nice clear day for their match against Portree in Arrochar! Arrochar? It’s the wettest place in Scotland! You have no idea how many charm requisition forms I have to fill in, I have R-41-N and W1-N6 forms coming out of my ears!” He ranted until he ran out of breath. 

He felt Neville’s eyes on him again, his lopsided smile forming at the outburst. “Sorry,” Ernie replied self-consciously. “I know that’s boring,” he said, rubbing his hands together, longing for the pint glass back so that he had something to fiddle with. 

“It’s not that, I don’t think I’ve ever heard so many words come out of your mouth, certainly not to me anyway,” He took another swig before looking away into the crowd. Pansy was sat on one of the armchairs, her skirt almost flashing her no-doubt-expensive underwear as she lounged leaning over another man. Her gaze flitted to Neville before looking away. 

“She looks like she’s still eager,” Ernie said, trying to keep the bitterness from his voice. 

“Who?” Neville asked, turning back to him, his brow furrowed in confusion. 

“Parkinson. She keeps looking in your direction,” Ernie swallowed down the revulsion.

“Does she?” He asked before turning to look. 

“Don’t look! You’ll make it obvious,” Ernie hissed. 

“So?” 

“So? What do you mean ‘so’? You really don’t care? Cause she looks very interested, to me,”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” He laughed uneasily, “I have no interest in her,” 

“Oh,” Ernie frowned as he tried to work out what he could mean by that. 

“I might make a move in a minute. I’ll help you home if you need it?” He offered, not making eye contact as he said it,

“Erm…” Ernie felt his brain stutter at the thought of his crush taking him home. “S…sure,”

Neville downed the rest of his pint, and he watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. The slightest hint of stubble was starting to show against his skin. He wondered what he would feel like under his tongue. Neville placed the glass down and started to stand. 

“You ready?” He asked. 

Ernie nodded, not trusting his voice. He stood up and swayed, but Neville caught him. 

“See you later, Han,” Neville waved. Ernie copied as they approached the fireplace. 

“Where do you live?” 

“Chalkhorse house, Uffington,” Ernie muttered as Neville grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw it in. Green flames flashed out of nowhere. He repeated the name clearly and stepped in, holding Ernie close to fit into the fireplace.  
Ernie closed his eyes and tried to focus on the line of heat from Neville as they spun through the floo network. He felt queasy at the motion and nervous at the Gryffindors proximity. All too soon they stepped out of the fire, appearing in his little cottage. Neville seemed so large in the tiny space and Ernie didn’t think he’d ever appreciated how tall he was before. 

The Gryffindor stooped to avoid one of the dark oak beams that pressed in on the room. Looking around curiously, he smiled. 

“Nice house,” He said simply. Ernie nodded as he watched the taller man move, threads in his olive green waistcoat glinting in the candlelight as he shifted. Ernie swallowed as he committed everything to memory. He would relive this moment in fantasies for months to come. If he could never have the real thing, this would have to do. “Do you live here alone?” Neville asked, turning back to him, licking his lips nervously.

“Yeah,” Ernie said before Neville’s lips crashed into his own. His mind reeling as Neville forced him back against the wall, knocking a red lamp off the nearby coffee table. His large, strong hands in his hair trapping his head, controlling him as his brain caught up. He started to kiss back, eagerly as small noises escaping him as the world disappeared. 

His drooping cock sprang to attention as Neville’s tongue stroked his lip before his teeth nibbled at the delicate flesh. Ernie cried out as Neville tugged at his hair, forcing his head back and opening his mouth wider. 

Running his hands up the firm arms, he tugged at the shirt, silently asking for more. As though hearing his plea, Neville tightened his grip in his hair, sending a thrill down his spine. He cried out again into the waiting mouth and felt it when the other man smiled. Pulling away slowly, Neville released him. 

Ernie kept his eyes closed and waited for his heartbeat to return, confident that he would wake up alone after having one of the best dreams of his life. He blinked into the room and held his breath. Neville stood, looking down at him, his lips red and plump as he smirked shyly. 

“Sorry,” He whispered, rubbing his own hair with his hand. “I just had to, at least once. I had better go. I’m sorry.”

“What?” Ernie asked, his brain reeling with all the new information. 

“Just forget it. I’m sorry,” He slowly backed away towards the fireplace, ready to make a retreat. 

“Longbottom. Stop!” he said as he rubbed at his temples. “What are you talking about? We can talk about this,”

“I shouldn’t have kissed you, we’ve been drinking, I just couldn’t help myself,”

“We’ve been drinking, but we’re not paralytic! Why would you want to kiss me?” 

The taller man slumped down on the sofa holding his head in his hands, avoiding his gaze.

“I’ve liked you for a while. Since that Ministry party a couple of years ago. I’ve been trying to get close to you ever since but you kept avoiding me. I only started coming into the Leaky because you came in after work,” 

Ernie stood there, the world spinning as though he was still in the floo

“You like me?” He said flatly. 

Neville nodded before taking a deep breath and looking up at him, his hazel eyes searching and cautious. “That’s why you weren’t interested in Pansy, or Hannah,” he said understanding dawning. 

“Hannah? She knows I like men,” Neville frowned. 

He would have to have words with that witch. She was his best friend, and she never told him. In her defence, she had dropped subtle hints which now made sense. Still, he would speak to her. Neville stood up again, drawing his attention. 

“I’m sorry. I can see that I’ve made you uncomfortable. I’ll go.”

“Please don’t,” Ernie said, stepping closer, his arm reaching out to grab the Gryffindor’s arm. 

“Why should I stay?” he asked, sending a furtive glance at Ernie avoiding his eye directly. 

Ernie took a deep breath. Fear holding him back while desire urged him on. He flung himself forward, hooking his hand around the taller man's neck, threading his fingers through the sandy hair at his neck before pulling him down into a searing kiss. 

With a grunt of surprise, Neville reciprocated pulling at the shorter man’s clothes. Something tore as hands gripped and grabbed, desperate to feel skin. It was Ernie’s turn to pull away, barely managing an inch. He panted as he pressed his forehead against Neville’s. 

“I had to tell you just how I feel,” Neville said, swallowing against his own panting. 

“I glad you did,” Ernie admitted, “And that’s why there’s no hot date with Parkinson?”

Neville snorted and nodded “She was not best pleased when I told her I wasn’t interested,” 

“Just as well, as I won’t share you,”

“Sounds like your mind is made up?” Neville teased as he smoothed the hair away from Ernie’s head. “But it’s ok, I don’t share well either…” They laughed before Neville pulled Ernie in for another kiss, they had so much lost time to make up for…


End file.
